


Disappear With the Sun

by FandomTrashbag



Category: Black Widow (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bad Dreams, Dream Sex, F/M, Gentle Sex, i hate that ending, mcu canon compliant, post avengers: endgame, sad bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrashbag/pseuds/FandomTrashbag
Summary: Sometimes, Bucky dreams at night. When he does, everything is as it should be and he gets to hold his spider close.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Disappear With the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, it's sad. I only really write sad one-shots, anymore (I couldn't develop a plot, even if I'd thought of one). Endgame still sucks; I prefer to think of it as never happening, but here I am.
> 
> I wrote this a while ago in my notebook while watching a really bad film in my Russian/German Studies film class earlier this semester.

“This isn’t real,” he said softly to the darkness. Her hair felt like silk between the fingers of this left hand as he combed it idly.

“And just how do you know that?” she mumbled back, her voice gone raspy from their lack of conversation.

He sighed. They had this conversation a lot lately; it was always in the dead of night when no one else could hear. Usually, it was also after sex, much like tonight. Her fingers continued to draw aimless pictures across his bare chest, uninterrupted by the sharp rise and fall of his sigh.

“Because it never is. It hasn’t been real for years.” There was almost a sadness to his confession, a finality. Maybe this would be the last time they’d have to talk about it. Maybe he wouldn’t have to say it out loud anymore.

“Maybe it would feel more real if we quit meeting like this.” She kissed his collarbone sweetly and stretched her body along the length of his side. She became this solid warmth that was comforting, almost soothing, to his weary mind.

“You talk as if there’s any other option.” He pressed a firm kiss to the crown of her head, his fleshy arm reaching down to trace the line of her spine. “The time for that has long since passed us by, my sweet spider. I wonder for how much longer I’ll get to feel your sting.”

She hummed in mild agreement against his chest, listening quietly to his slow, steady heartbeat.

“The sun will be up soon,” he said after a while of companionable silence. “I don’t know when you’ll be back after tonight.”

“Neither do I. That is something you’ll always know better than me.” She tilted her fiery head up from its position on his chest. “Perhaps,” she paused and shifted her weight to slide over him, “we should make the most of it.”

Both of them knew he would never argue with her. She was, and always would be, his secret weakness. Nights like tonight served as a heady reminder of that.

His sleep was usually so short and restless that their time together was hurried and sometimes rough. Every once in a while, he’d find time and peace enough to be slow, affectionate, and really spend time together. They’d fuck, maybe nap or reminisce, then fuck again (ocassionally slower than the first time). The nights were longer in the winter, so they could even squeeze in breakfast before sunrise. They never had pancakes because she’d gotten so tired of them in the past. He would always drag her to pancake houses whenever he won a bet.

He let her take control as she straddled his waist. Once she was fully seated and full of him, she sighed sweetly and layed herself along his body; her breasts flattened against his chest and her forehead matched squarely with his. With her elbows resting gently above his shoulders for leverage, she began to move only her hips, slowly raising them up and back down. It was a painfully tender rhythm that had him breathing deeply. As he exhaled, his hands reached down to run up her thighs and encircle them, his metal extremity no cooler than the rest of him after hours of her laying against it.

They said nothing, focusing on each other’s steady breathing every time she lifted and dropped her hips. The close she got, the more she started rocking against him fully. Her pace picked up just a little as she began to make small, mewling noises in the back of her throat. He could almost feel the encroaching sunrise along with her climax, so he lifted his knees and began to rock with her, thrusting just a little deeper. She moved her hands to thread together in his hair and pushed her forehead into the crook of his neck. His large hands splayed across her lower back to keep her pressed against him as he moved faster.

Both of them began to breathe harder as they hit their climax together; he let out a soft grunt as her teeth sank into the soft flesh at the base of his neck and she froze above him, letting her thighs twitch and contract through release.

His right hand came up to hold her face as he pressed a long, sad kiss to her forehead. The sun was breaking just over the horizon and his chest began to ache.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” he repeated softly against her sweat-slick skin. He closed his eyes tight to try and hold onto the moment. When he opened them, his room was bright with the first light of a new day. His arms were empty and his body cold as he lay on his side, staring at the empty, neatly made half of his bed.

He felt keenly empty as he sighed and whispered to the room, “You always disappear with the sun.”


End file.
